Chapter 1 - The Price of a Lie
Roman Rossi rose so slowly that the scrape of his chair sounded louder than the orchestra.
Sadi's mother, Celeste Haddad, still wore the same polished smile she used whenever she said something cruel in a voice sweet enough to make other people doubt they had heard it correctly.
“How much did my daughter pay you?” she repeated, lifting her champagne glass. “Or perhaps I should ask how much she promised you.”
No one moved.
At the far end of table four, Sadi’s ex-boyfriend, Ethan Blake, looked down at his plate.
Her sister Bianca stared at their mother in horror.
And Sadi felt every old humiliation return at once.
The middle-school dance where Celeste had told her to stand behind Bianca in photographs because “the camera adds weight.”
The college graduation where her mother had spent twenty minutes praising Bianca’s dress and then asked Sadi whether she had considered a gym membership.
The family Christmas when Ethan had broken up with her three days before dinner and Celeste had sighed, “Some men simply need a woman who makes life look easier.”
Sadi had spent years pretending those things did not hurt.
Tonight she had thought she could survive a few hours.
Then Roman placed one hand on the back of her chair.
“No one paid me,” he said.
Celeste’s smile faltered.
Roman’s voice remained calm.
“That would imply my presence can be purchased.”
The silence deepened.
Sadi knew enough about Roman’s reputation to understand why several people at the table suddenly looked uncomfortable. Roman did not raise his voice. He did not need to.
Celeste tried to laugh.
“I only meant that Sadi has always had a dramatic imagination.”
Roman looked at her.
Then he glanced toward the small table near the service doors where a handwritten place card still read SADI HADDAD.
He looked back at Celeste.
“Your daughter was assigned to sit there?”
Celeste’s fingers tightened around the stem of her glass.
“It was a seating issue.”
“No,” Roman said. “It was a message.”
Sadi’s heart stopped.
Celeste blinked.
Roman continued.
“You wanted her to know who mattered tonight. You wanted everyone else to know it too.”
“Mr. Rossi,” Sadi’s father, Nabil, said carefully, “this is a family dinner.”
Roman nodded once.
“Then perhaps the family should behave like one.”
Sadi closed her eyes for half a second.
She had given Roman three rules.
No guns.
No threats.
Act like he liked her.
She had not anticipated a fourth problem.
He was defending her as if the insults mattered to him personally.
Celeste’s cheeks reddened.
“You barely know my daughter.”
Roman’s gaze shifted to Sadi.
He knew she drank coffee with too much cinnamon.
He knew she hummed when she polished silver because silence made long workdays feel longer.
He knew she called every stray dog “sweetheart.”
He knew she kept emergency chocolate in the left drawer of the staff pantry and gave half of it away whenever anyone else had a bad day.
He knew she called her father every Sunday even when her father forgot to call first.
He knew she had cried the night before not because Ethan would be at the rehearsal dinner, but because her mother had placed her beside the kitchen and she was ashamed that it still hurt.
Roman looked back at Celeste.
“I know enough.”
Something changed in Sadi’s chest.
Not love.
Not yet.
But something dangerous enough to resemble hope.
Celeste sat back down.
“This is ridiculous.”
Bianca finally spoke.
“Mom, stop.”
Celeste turned sharply. “Excuse me?”
“I said stop.”
The bride-to-be looked pale beneath her makeup.
“This is my rehearsal dinner. I don't want Sadi humiliated at it.”
Sadi stared at her sister.
Bianca had benefited from their mother’s favoritism for years, but she had rarely participated in the cruelty directly. More often, she had remained silent.
Tonight, for the first time, she was not silent.
Celeste looked around the table as if searching for an ally.
Her gaze landed on Ethan.
“Well?” she said. “You dated her for two years. You know what she’s like.”
Sadi’s stomach tightened.
Ethan slowly lifted his head.
He was still handsome in the clean, forgettable way that had once made her feel safe. Dark blond hair. Blue tie. Expensive watch. The kind of face mothers trusted.
He looked at Roman.
Then at Sadi.
“I don't think this is the time.”
Celeste laughed once.
“Coward.”
Roman's fingers brushed Sadi’s shoulder.
It was barely a touch.
Yet she felt steadier.
The waiter appeared at the edge of the table, clearly unsure whether he should serve the next course or flee.
Roman pulled out Sadi’s chair a little farther.
“You're staying here,” he told her quietly.
Sadi looked up at him.
“Roman.”
“Do you want to leave?”
She thought about it.
Every instinct built by years of family dinners told her to disappear before she made things worse.
Then she looked at the place card near the kitchen.
No.
“No,” she said.
Roman’s mouth curved slightly.
“Good.”
He sat beside her.
The waiter began serving dinner.
For ten uncomfortable minutes, no one spoke above a murmur.
Then Bianca’s fiancé, Noah Mercer, attempted to rescue the evening by asking Roman about a charity hospital project that had recently appeared in the newspapers.
Roman answered politely.
Sadi stared at him.
She had never heard him discuss his legitimate businesses at length. In the mansion, he was simply the man whose phone calls could empty a room.
Tonight he spoke about medical grants, renovation permits, pediatric care, and the importance of keeping private donors from controlling hospital decisions.
He sounded thoughtful.
Measured.
Almost normal.
Ethan leaned toward Sadi while Roman answered Noah.
“So this is real?” he whispered.
Sadi did not look at him.
“What?”
“You and Rossi.”
She picked up her water.
“That seems to be the topic everyone finds more interesting than Bianca’s wedding.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
Ethan’s jaw tightened.
“You always said you hated men who scared people.”
Sadi finally looked at him.
“And I used to think you were kind.”
The words landed harder than she expected.
Ethan looked away.
Roman had heard.
Of course he had.
But he did not interfere.
That somehow mattered more than if he had threatened Ethan.
When dinner ended, Celeste stood to thank everyone.
Her speech lasted six polished minutes.
She praised Bianca.
She praised Noah.
She praised the Mercer family.
She thanked the chef, the florist, the event coordinator, and even the restaurant manager.
She did not mention Sadi.
Sadi told herself she no longer cared.
Then Roman leaned close.
“You arranged the flowers.”
She turned.
“What?”
“The centerpieces. You were correcting the florist’s order on the phone yesterday.”
Sadi stared at the arrangements of white roses and olive branches.
“Yes.”
“And the menus?”
“I helped Bianca choose them.”
“The seating cards?”
Sadi gave him a humorless smile.
“Apparently not all of them.”
Roman looked toward Celeste.
Then he lifted his glass.
The quiet sound of crystal against silverware drew everyone’s attention.
Celeste’s expression froze.
Roman stood.
“I was told this evening was about family,” he said. “So I would like to thank the person who appears to have done half the work without receiving half the credit.”
Sadi stopped breathing.
Roman looked directly at her.
“To Sadi.”
Bianca stood first.
“To Sadi.”
Noah followed.
Then Nabil.
Slowly, awkwardly, almost everyone raised a glass.
Even Ethan.
Celeste did not.
Sadi’s eyes burned.
She hated that.
She hated crying.
She especially hated crying in emerald silk while a Mafia boss toasted her in front of people who had spent years overlooking her.
Roman sat.
“You're angry,” he murmured.
“Yes.”
“At me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because now I’m going to cry, and I spent forty minutes on this makeup.”
Roman’s expression softened.
“That is a serious consequence.”
She laughed before she could stop herself.
It was the first real laugh she had given him.
Across the table, Ethan watched.
So did Celeste.
After dessert, guests began drifting toward the terrace.
Sadi escaped into the hallway near the restrooms.
She pressed both palms against the cool wall.
This had gone too far.
A fake boyfriend was supposed to prevent pity.
Not rearrange the emotional structure of her family.
She heard footsteps.
Roman.
“Are you all right?”
“No.”
He stopped several feet away.
Sadi turned.
“You promised to pretend.”
“I did.”
“You're very bad at it.”
One eyebrow lifted.
“What exactly did I do incorrectly?”
“You paid attention.”
Roman went still.
Sadi immediately regretted saying it.
She looked away.
“That sounded pathetic.”
“No,” he said. “It sounded accurate.”
Before she could answer, a man in a gray suit appeared at the far end of the corridor.
Roman’s expression changed instantly.
Not visibly enough for most people.
But Sadi had worked in his house for two years.
She recognized the difference.
His shoulders became still.
His eyes sharpened.
The man approached and handed Roman a folded card.
“Mr. Rossi.”
Roman opened it.
His face gave away nothing.
Sadi watched him read.
“What is it?”
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
“That sentence is never comforting.”
He folded the note once.
Then twice.
Sadi held out her hand.
Roman looked at it.
“You said we were pretending to be a couple,” she reminded him. “Couples share things.”
His gaze returned to her face.
For several seconds, neither moved.
Then he placed the note in her palm.
Three lines were printed inside.
THE MEETING CHANGED.
CARUSO KNOWS WHERE YOU ARE.
AND NOW HE KNOWS WHO SHE IS.
Sadi read it twice.
Her mouth went dry.
“Who is Caruso?”
Roman’s voice became very quiet.
“A man who was not supposed to know your name.”
Before they left the restaurant, Sadi made Roman wait.
She went back into the ballroom alone.
Celeste was still at table four, speaking in a low voice to Nabil while Bianca stood near the terrace doors with Noah. Ethan had disappeared.
Sadi walked to the little table near the kitchen.
Her original place card remained beside an untouched water glass.
She picked it up.
Her mother noticed.
“Sadi.”
Sadi turned.
Celeste looked from the place card to the ballroom entrance, where Roman waited without crossing the threshold.
“You are leaving with him?”
“Yes.”
“You don't know that man.”
Sadi almost laughed.
“I know you.”
The words stopped Celeste.
For once, Sadi did not soften them.
“You were willing to humiliate me tonight because you assumed I would accept it quietly.”
“That is not fair.”
“Neither was that seat.”
“It was practical.”
“No. It was cruel.”
Celeste’s face tightened.
“You have become very bold in twenty-four hours.”
Sadi looked at the card in her hand.
“No. I think I was always this person. I just kept apologizing for her.”
Nabil rose.
“Sadi, your mother is upset.”
“I am upset too, Dad.”
That silenced him.
Sadi loved her father, but suddenly she saw how often his gentleness had required her to absorb the impact of Celeste’s sharper edges.
“Tomorrow,” Nabil said, “we can talk when everyone is calmer.”
Sadi nodded.
“Tomorrow we can talk. But we are not going to pretend tonight did not happen.”
Bianca approached.
“Sadi.”
She held out her arms.
Sadi hesitated, then hugged her sister.
Bianca whispered, “I should have changed the seating chart.”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
It was not absolution.
But it was honest.
When Sadi stepped away, Bianca glanced toward Roman.
“He really came as your boyfriend?”
Sadi followed her gaze.
Roman stood under the archway, hands in his pockets, deliberately giving her distance.
“Yes.”
Bianca’s eyes narrowed.
“You are a terrible liar.”
Sadi nearly choked.
“What?”
“That man is looking at you like he forgot there are other people in the building.”
Sadi’s face warmed.
“This is complicated.”
Bianca smiled faintly.
“When is anything in this family not complicated?”
Sadi walked back to Roman.
He looked at the card in her hand.
“Souvenir?”
“Evidence.”
“Of?”
“That I am never letting anyone choose my chair again.”
Roman opened the door for her.
Outside, the cold air struck her face.
For the first time that evening, Sadi could breathe.
She tucked the place card into her purse.
Years later, she would still have it.
May you like
Not because she wanted to remember the insult.
Because she wanted to remember the night she finally stopped accepting it.
